


swine HPV and a wave of heat

by wanderlustnostalgia



Category: Saturday Night Live, Weekend Update (SNL)
Genre: Bodega Bathroom, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustnostalgia/pseuds/wanderlustnostalgia
Summary: Big Nick's Bodega has everything, but Shy only cares about the key to the bathroom.





	swine HPV and a wave of heat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after watching the [Bodega Bathroom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgBxxEL-3TI) sketch and realizing that a) it was basically a Stefon sketch and b) they totally could've had Bill cameo in it but they didn't smdh.

“I need the key to your bathroom.”

The bodega man raises an eyebrow.  He bears an entirely-too-strong resemblance to Shy, given that they’re only first cousins, and every (mercifully rare) time they interact Shy wonders if his own face looks that punchable on a daily basis.  “You sure about that?”

Shy sighs.  He’d pick the lock himself, but a rogue pigeon stole his lockpicking necklace about a week ago and his girlfriend’s borrowing the spare for her exhibitionist tribute to Houdini.  “Yes, I’m sure, Nicky.”

“All right, all right.”  Nick disappears behind the counter and comes back with a giant key attached to a cinderblock.  His skinny arms, like Shy’s, are surprisingly strong; unlike Shy’s, their toned muscle was probably not the result of two and a half years spent training with the Malaysian gymnastics team.  “And so it shall be.  Oh, bodega cat—”

“I know what’s in your damn bathroom,” Shy says, holding up a hand.  The cat saunters up, unfazed.  “You can skip the musical tour.”

“Skip the musical tour?” the cat exclaims, aghast.  “That’s New York tradition.  You are blaspheming our unholy ground, sir!”

“The only thing I’m blaspheming is my law degree, for not suing your asses on the spot.”

“You can only bypass the rules of the bodega if you own the bodega, Shiloh,” Nick intones.  “Since you seem so eager, I’m transferring ownership to you.”

“I don’t want your stupid bodega, I just want you to open the stupid bathroom—”

“Fine.  Half ownership.”

“No ownership.”

“A quarter ownership.”

“An _eighth_ ownership.”

“An eighth ownership,” says Nick, “plus custody of the Sour Patch Kids on Fridays.”

Shy glances at the overgrown Sour Patch Kids, who spent the first five years of the bodega’s life on the shelf and now resemble somewhat shriveled Oompa Loompas.  “Wednesdays.”

“Done.”  Nick hands Shy the key.  “Would you like me to throw in some Tiger Sex Pills—”

Shy shoves past him and the bodega cat as the door swings open to reveal a moldy and mildewed toilet, a pair of oddly attractive cockroaches, and the crumpled form of Stefon Zolesky sprawled out on the uncleaned floor.  “Oh, Cheez-Its,” Shy mutters, crouching beside him.

“You know, you could’ve told me your friend locked himself in here.  I would’ve fished him out,” Nick says.

Nick would’ve left him to get swallowed by the toilet, actually, but Shy really doesn’t have the energy to argue right now.  He taps Stefon’s cheek lightly.  “Stef?  Up and at ‘em, buddy.”

Stefon groans, barely managing to lift his head off the floor.  His bangs are plastered to his forehead, and he peers up at Shy through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.

“C’mon, let’s getcha home,” Shy says, hooking one arm around Stefon’s legs and lifting him off the tile.  Stefon doesn’t protest, his weight limp and noodly in Shy’s arms.

Shy heads toward the exit, tuning out the cockroaches’ depraved rendition of “Seasons of Love” and the bodega cat’s wolf-whistles.  Stefon buries his face in Shy’s neck and mumbles something, but Shy can’t quite make it out save for low rumblings and the faintest of vibrations against his skin.

“I know my collarbone is incredibly tempting, but I can’t hear a thing you’re saying when you’re pressed up against it like that, Stef,” he chides, out of earshot from his nosy cousin, and Stefon angles his lips up to graze Shy’s jaw.

“He has a lady over,” Stefon murmurs, and Shy sighs.

“That’s the way the coca crumbles, my friend.”  He shoves the door open with his shoulder and walks the two of them home, to his apartment and a cold shower and a semi-functional washing machine.

He tries not to think about how his girlfriend will react to finding out she’s a Sour Patch Mom.


End file.
